


I Have Never...

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Self Confidence, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a messy game of "I Have Never" Tailgate and Drift have a heart to heart conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Never...

**Author's Note:**

> Request for [Grocerymarticon](http://grocerymarticon.tumblr.com/)

“I HAVE NEVER”-

“Sorry, Drift, what was that?” Swerve tried speaking over the conundrum.

“A quart of mid grade, please.” Drift pulled a seat up to the bar and slumped in it while Swerve prepared his order. 

“Not the usual?” Swerve called, making a casual inquiry. The _usual_ being a half of mid grade. Drift just chuckled and shook his head, not divulging that after the Hedonia _extravaganza_ he’d been tugging his purse strings a little tighter. 

“I have _never”-_ Drift tried listening but he felt obliged to answer Swerve. 

“Uhh…no, no. Saving money,” His drink was being served to him over the counter, “Uh, Swerve, what are they doing?” 

Another ‘ _I have never_ ’ sounded but the continuation of the sentence was lost to a hiss of murmurs and half the mechs seated in a close circle chugged their drinks. 

Swerve clambered half way onto the counter, “It’s a game, they’ve been playing all night.” 

“A game?” Drift felt curious. He stepped into the circle, leaving a saddened Swerve alone behind the bar. A few of the mechs in chairs shuffled apart to make way for him. Tailgate, who Drift stood directly beside wobbled on the height of his stool - the legs rocked ominously and he didn’t move an inch, “What’s the game?” 

After sucking in a breath Tailgate motioned to answer, his explanation was interrupted by a rude hiccup. Bashfully, he hid his face. 

“Don’t ask Tailgate, he doesn’t know the rules.” There were a few sniggers made by other mechs in the circle and Drift was surprised to see Tailgate’s face fill with regret, “It’s called ‘I have never’ you say something you’ve never done and those who have done it, drink - only Tailgate here,” Rewind finished his mocking explanation on a open note from which Tailgate could continue. 

“I got - _hic!-_ I _got_ confused. _I_ thought you just drank after someone said something and now I… I” He outstretched a palm and steadied himself by using Drift for support. The small white hand wavered before bumping into Drift’s hip. Drift’s lips quirked. He stood a little closer and heard Tailgate groan, “I don’t feel so great.” 

“You wanna play, Drift?” Skids invited. 

It was a pleasant thought but… Drift eyed his meagre potion of mid grade.

“ _Of course he does!”_ How Drift had missed their Captain sneaking up from behind he didn’t know. When Rodimus clapped a hand down on his shoulder Drift jumped. Some of his drink travelled up the side of his glass and dribbled onto his hands, “Come on Drift, it’ll be fun.” Rodimus chimed, dragging a stool into the circle for his use. Drift glanced about but ultimately was left standing. 

“- _Hic!-_ No it’s not.” Drift heard Tailgate grumbled but the others either ignored him or didn’t hear. They continued their game eagerly, maintaining a meticulous order so that everyone had the chance to divulge something shamefully personal as the questions depreciated in virtue. 

“I have never…uhhh.” Trailcutter brushed the saliva off his lip, “I have never… 

“Come _on_ Trailcutter!” Someone else in the circle urged, by now everyone was looking a little crooked in their seats but no one more so than Tailgate, who had fallen against Drift with his forearm braced across the mech’s waist for his helm to rest on. He groaned frequently. Drift’s hand hovered above his helm, not knowing whether to deliver a reassuring pat or two. 

“Fine! I have never… _interfaced_ with anyone bigger than I am.” 

A few people, the usual subjects, Rewind, Pipes and _Rodimus_ among them, took a gulp of their varying poisons. Skids swilled his drink.

“Are we talking bigger bodied or bigger… y’know.” 

Trailcutter’s grin may have been lopsided but he was mischievously proud.

“Both!” 

A low curse was muttered by Skids and the mech took a quick sip. 

The circle kept growing, more mechs were eager to join, pulled in by their allure of a good time and the charisma of their captain who kept inviting every sod who walked through the door over. When Drift agreed to join he hadn’t planned on taking part in a public event. Especially one that involved disclosing more personal information than he’d ever planned. He hoped, on his turn, he could take the game in a new direction - perhaps inject a less intrusive tone and show the mechs it didn’t _all_ have to be about blood, guts and interfacing.

He learned shortly before his turn that nobody cared for many of the other topics. Blaster’s prideful confession that he’d never missed a “singing lesson” earned a roar of ‘boos’.

The game was as much about drinking as it was finding out every microscopic detail about their shipmates. Great…

Drift’s lips twisted as he took another sip of his drink for having part-taken in something many would consider obscure and perhaps… slightly debauched. 

Their stares burned into him, and the weight of Tailgate nuzzled into his hip vanished. That made Drift frown, but any onlooker would interoperate the expression as displeasure from reaching the end of his glass.

“Excuse me.” He said quietly, heading to the bar to fetch another drink. He may have been being self-conscious but he swore he heard people muttering. It was hard to shake off those feelings and preoccupying himself with his drinks order did little to distract him

Rodimus was calling him back before he even arrived at the bar. 

By now, Swerve was looking truly downcast. He whined to Drift about how he wanted to play - unfortunately responsibility outweighed his need for fun. Drift nodded along politely, and told Swerve he wasn’t missing much - however, the foundation of his words was smashed when the entire circle erupted with laughter. Drift looked toward it, catching a few stared before they sharply turned away. 

When he returned to the circle, Rodimus was already throwing a question at him. 

“What about you Drift, ever been in a threesome?”

Honestly, Drift was surprised the question hadn’t surfaced sooner. Bracing himself for the aftermath - Drift chugged a mouthful of his drink. He heard them sniggering. 

“With who?” Rodimus leaned in, his bright face obscuring much of everyone else. 

“I don’t know.” Being from the Deadend it was hardly surprising, there were many things he didn’t remember from that time - considering how often he addled his processor with Circuit Boosters it was a wonder he had any memory of that time at all. 

“You don’t _know_?” Rodimus pressed, mystified and maybe disappointed. 

Solemnly, Drift shook his head. 

“No.” 

Those who were hoping for a longer explanation were disappointed. Drift didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to remember… he didn’t want to remember but the silence dragged on like everyone in the room was expecting something from him. 

“Whose go is it?” Tailgate croaked. If his plating could change colour Tailgate would be green. He lolled forward dangerously, then wobbled back but kept his drink firmly clutched against his chest. 

“Oh, it’s mine!” Rodimus’s face glittered with excitement. He raised his glass high, “I HAVE NEVER,” And he paused for a effect because he’d obviously thought of his question long before his turn arrived, “…Interfaced with a Decepticon.” 

No one drank. 

Not one person in Drift’s view lifted their glass, or even contemplated twitching. But Drift’s hand quivered and all eyes fell on him. A prickly heat walked across his neck, and in the moment it made him angry that he was so ashamed of himself. That he found it a struggle to confess to something he’d done in the past because he worried about being judged for it. 

But, to his relief, the unnecessary loud slurping sounds beside him averted everyone’s attention as well as his own. 

Drift’s helm tilted down as Tailgate finished downing the last of his engex, sucking it up through a bendy staw. He then gasped. A sour-tasting pocket of air forced its way out his vents. Everyone was astonished.

“Yep, that’ll do it.” He slurred, sounding very green. 

Promptly Tailgate regurgitated the fluid marbled with white digestive enzymes all over his feet and partly on Drift’s too. 

The entire crowd recoiled in disgust. 

“Ewww.” People left hurriedly, wincing and pulling sick faces as they hurried for the door. Rodimus was the first out. No one wanted to be caught up in the hassle of cleaning the mess. Unfortunately, Drift didn’t have much of a choice. 

No sooner had he almost smeared the splatter entirely off his foot, Swerve was pushing a mop into his hands. 

“Your game. Your mess.” 

Obviously Swerve was still upset about missing out. Toneless, he then instructed Tailgate to sit quietly at the bar and take _little sips_ of the weak energon mix the bartender had supplied. 

“I can’t believe I scared everyone off.” Tailgate hid his face and groaned. 

His cheeks felt hot, his helm pounded and the watery swish and slap of Drift manipulating the mop was making his tanks quiver. 

After hearing the pathetic sounds, Drift paused, elbows leaning on the mop with a slight smirk. 

“So… you like Decepticons huh?” 

Tailgate’s groaning got louder, then stopped entirely. His blue visor dimmed and he kept his sights down. 

“No… not really.” 

Drift leaned back, looking quizzical. Tailgate didn’t seem too damaged by his experience to talk about it so Drift waited to hear more. Annoyingly, he was as curious of Tailgate’s story as the other lechers were of his in the game.

“I lied.” 

Drift left the clean up job half done and sat on Rodimus’s abandoned stool next to Tailgate, with his feet perched neatly on the foot rest. 

“How come?” 

It wasn’t judgmental. Drift knew he had no right to condescend on anyone, his curiosity was honest. Tailgate was such an unassuming sort. No one would suspect the minibot capable of telling stories let alone something as sinister as lying. 

Tailgate sat back, head swimming when he leaned on the bar and stared at the ceiling. 

“I…I just wanted something to talk about. You, and all the others you’ve all lived such full lives.” 

“Come on now, I know you spent a lot of the last six million years down a well but before that I heard you were something of a daredevil.” Besides, Drift’s life wasn’t the kind of ‘full’ others liked to boast about. The content of his escapades was worthy for gossip and slander only. Thinking of it made him curl his hands in his lap. 

“Well yeah! But… that was _eons_ ago. I didn’t have much beyond th-the wotsit…umm,” Nevermind, Tailgate decided the name wasn’t important. “I was stuck in the hole for _millions_ of years and… it jusss passed! In the blink of an eye! I don’t have any stories, or know any of the new jokes, _Primus_ I even played that stupid game wrong!” 

Taking pity, Drift extended a hand to pat Tailgate’s shoulder. 

“And you!” Just when Drift thought Tailgate tirade was over he started again, “ You drank to almost _everything!_ I know, I wasss wastching, how are you not like me? Why aren’t you suffering?” It seemed to insult Tailgate that Drift wasn’t stumbling round on all-fours as he tried to rectify the mess on the floor.

Quietly, Drift snorted.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” And he leaned in close, “ _Really_ little sips and…” Drift came closer again, whispering right in Tailgate’s audio, “I wasn’t drinking high grade.” 

Tailgate’s visor crackled manically, he drew so hard on his curly straw that he almost choked. 

“No way!” He sounded beyond awed, rocking back in his stool so far Drift worried he’d fall, “…I wish I’d thought of that - _hic!-“_ Tailgate wrapped an arm round his tanks, “I’m too old for this slag.” 

Drift was confused by the nearly whimpered sounds Tailgate made. For comfort he left his hand on the minibot’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes not having a lot to talk about is a good thing.” 

“How?” 

The grimace pulling Drift’s lips down went unnoticed. Tailgate stared at him. 

“Well… it gives you a reputation and then people start to expect things of you and…it’s not nice.” 

“Doing everything is better than doing nothing! And by nothing I mean _no_ thing, at all, no singing class, no _threesomes,_ Primus! I couldn’t even say I’d finished a novel!” 

“What?” Drift laughed but Tailgate looked seriously miserable. 

“…And my tanks _hurt_.” 

Without Tailgate’s surprising vocal volume the room turned still. Not even Swerve was around to interrupt and the last of the customers had trotted off not too long again. Drift considered returning to his cleaning duty but in the time he took to decide Tailgate decided sitting in silence was worse for his unsteady head. 

“…’m sorry about throwing up on your feet. Millions of years old and can’t handle high grade.” 

“That’s okay - I can’t handle myself around it either.” Although the neutrality of Drift’s electromagnetism faltered Tailgate continued like he hadn’t noticed.

“But you don’t _need_ high grade to get on with people anyway. You have enough to talk about with out sounding dumb. I…I worry about what they think of me.”

“Me too .” Drift was saying before he could think twice. Regret filled his voice and he looked at the floor. 

“Really?” Tailgate stared, “Why?”

“W-What you mean?” Drift nearly laughed, having just disclosed something a little to personal, being question wasn’t what he expect.  

“W-Why would _you_ have to worry about what they thought of you, I mean - look at you!” Drift did give himself the quick ‘once-over’ “ If I looked like you it wouldn’t matter what I said because people wouldn’t be listening anyway.” 

“Umm… thanks?” 

“Sorry, didn’t - _hic!-_ mean it like tha’ what I meant was… was that,” Tailgate cycled a yawn, “ Y-You’re successful, third in command, people _listen_ to you they have to respect you and looking,” He accented his point with wild, wiggly hand gestures, “…As you do - you just got the whole package. And! And all those things you’ve done with _people,_ you must have so much confidence… I wish I could be more like you.” 

The barrage of words had an impact of Drift. He sat, mouth drooping slightly. If this was praise he didn’t understand it… if it was meant to insulting he didn’t feel offended. And if he asked to hear it again, Tailgate looked like he’d gone beyond capable of remembering what had just fallen out of him vocal-corder.  

“No you don’t.” Speaking on these terms made Drift realise that his reality was the reverse of Tailgate’s. What he wouldn’t give for the minibot’s sheltered version of the universe. The oblivious mind he moved day to day with. 

“Doing all those things in the game… it wasn’t that great.” 

“But - But you, you get around!” 

“Ah-ha, a little too much back in the day.” 

“Pfft even people like me?” 

With the hard-hitting “ _for the right price_ ” unspoken Drift just smiled. 

“Like you said, I got around.”

“Must have been exciting.” 

Desperately Drift wanted to correct him but, the rose-tinted view Tailgate had of him was so rare Drift didn’t want to corrupt it. The truth was so ugly that Drift craved the escapism. Sooner or later Tailgate would sniff out the truth of his history - an Autobot’s version of it. Right now, Drift sort to save the make-believe and enjoy it while it lasted. 

“Not really… most days I’d have preferred to stay in bed.” 

“With two other mechs ayy,” Tailgate jabbed at him. That was a mistake - his processor wasn’t prepared for sudden movement. Luckily, when he started to veer off the stool Drift pulled him back. Just smiling quietly. 

“One person would do just fine.” 

“Oh yeah? Anyone aboard this ship?” 

Hesitantly, Drift looked toward Tailgate, there was a reply but it was hard to voice. The words caught on his tongue and Drift croaked.

“Will you two stop gassing!” Swerve reappeared, just in time. He held more cleaning products and, for once didn’t look the least bit interested in what he might have interrupted, “I want to close up!” 

Very, very carefully, Tailgate wobbled off his stool. When his feet hit the ground he lurched twice, hoping through the spread around slush Drift was supposed to be mopping away. 

“That’s okay, Swerve - I was just leaving anyway. I’ll have a good night’s and maybe be better in the morning. Hopefully I won’t remember a thing!” 

While Tailgate was trudging toward the door Drift fumbled for something to say,

“H-Hey, at least you’ll have something to drink for the next time we play,” 

And he made a mental note for next time: _I have never purged while playing I have never._  


End file.
